


Rentboy

by Melodious329



Series: Rentboy [1]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hurt/Comfort Bingo Square:  Rentboy or girl</p><p>Steve Carlson is a famous musician and music producer who takes a wrong turn one night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rentboy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters have been created

“Dammit,” Steve says aloud to the empty interior of his car. Taking his eyes off the road for a second, he leans over into the footwell of the passenger seat but he can’t reach the phone he just dropped. Frustrated, he pulls over without really thinking about it, and it’s not til he puts the car in park that it really hits him that it’s past midnight and he’s not in a part of LA that he wants to be caught in.

The car’s already stopped though, so he takes off his seatbelt and scrounges around until he comes up with his iPhone. He just wants to get home. It’s been a long week in the studio and then Jason wanted him to hear this new band he found. ‘Now that you’re a hotshot music producer,’ Jason had teased.

He’s ‘made it’ more than he ever thought he would and he’s still amazed that he can help other people realize their dreams too. But right now, his shiny new hybrid car is attracting the wrong kind of attention. Glancing up from his phone, he’s surprised to see a boy on the streets this late at night. As Steve watches, the boy glances up and down the street before moving toward Steve’s car.

Curious, Steve rolls down the window. The boy is in his teens, fairly tan with chestnut hair that falls over his forehead and wearing tight jeans and a white tank. But it’s the kid’s eyes that draw Steve’s attention, big doe-eyes that are an almost eerie pale blue and that are focused intently on Steve.

“Need some help?” the kid asks in a rough voice, one side of his full lips quirked up in a calculated smirk. It’s not til then that Steve realizes what this kid is, what he’s really asking.

Steve is opening his mouth to laugh and say no, shoo the kid away from his car, but he can’t help noticing other things now that he knows what he’s looking at. It’s cold and the kid is skinny, the jeans are a size too small and short, the white tank is dirty and so are the fingers that are clenching the rolled down window. The kid’s expression is trying for playful and mischievous but it’s too hard, there’s desperation hovering around the edges of the wide blue eyes.

Suddenly all he can think about is this poor kid having to ply his trade with someone else when Steve can easily afford to buy some time, to buy this kid some food and maybe give him a clean bed for the night.

“Get in,” he says before he thinks too much more about it. Goddamn his bleeding heart, it’s a good thing none of his friends are here to see this. The kid smiles but it’s marred by both relief and apprehension. He’s quiet as he slides into the car, putting on his seatbelt and waiting for Steve to put the car back in gear. As soon as they’re on the road, though, he’s telling Steve exactly how things are going to go.

“Take a right at the next street if you want it in the car, there’s a place to park, or there’s a motel, you take a left at the light if you…”

“No, I uh, I have a hotel in mind,” Steve says, unsure of how to explain himself to this boy without sounding like a kidnapper. He certainly can’t take the kid to his house, but he can afford a nice hotel for the night. But the suggestion clearly makes the kid uncomfortable as he shifts a little and rubs his hand along his jean-clad thighs.

“It’s five hundred for that,” the kid blurts out, like he’s unsure whether he’s hoping that Steve will actually pay him that much or that Steve will balk.

“Ok,” Steve says dumbly, not wanting to ask exactly what that is that costs five hundred dollars. And then there’s silence, awkward silence, for a long moment as Steve tries to think of a safe topic before he finally says, “What’s your name?”

“Whatever you want to call me, baby,” the kid says smarmily.

“No, I mean…my name’s Steve,” he tries again.

“You sure you don’t want me to call you sir or master?” is the smartass reply. Steve glances over at the kid as he parks the car. This kid wears asshole like it’s a cloak, like a cat puffing up its hair, he’s trying to seem bigger, tougher, than he is. Because the truth is he’s small and young and defenseless, huddled in the front seat of Steve’s car. But Steve likes the bravado, the attitude. At least this kid isn’t beaten down, isn’t passively taking what life is giving him, the kid is vying for control of this situation even when he has no control.

“Stay in the car,” Steve orders as he goes to get the room.

When he comes back out with a room key, he’s surprised to see that it looks like the kid has touched nothing in the car, hasn’t tried to rifle through the interior and find something to steal. The kid looks almost asleep. But the influx of cold air as Steve opens the door has the kid starting awake. He sneers at the way that Steve holds the door open for him as he gets out.

They don’t touch as Steve leads them in a side door of the hotel trying to avoid as many people as possible. The only looks they get are from the doorman. Steve almost laughs at what this looks like, ‘famous musician takes rent boy to the Ritz’. Wonderful.

They settle on opposite sides of the elevator, the kid leaning back against the wall, cocking one hip out and gripping the handrail on either side of his body. He’s spread out like a display but those eyes are still intensely watching, ready to react to any threat. Despite the wretched circumstances of watching a teenager try to be seductive, Steve has to adjust himself in his loose jeans. There’s something about this kid, the intensity of his crystal gaze, the grace in his every move, the attitude, something that makes Steve think about touching him the way many others undoubtedly have.

Fortunately the elevator dings and Steve leads the way to the room. He’ll just get the kid some room service and leave him some money. Simple, he tells himself.

Going straight to the bar, he’s vaguely aware of the kid just inside the door, gazing around at his surroundings like Steve brought him to a palace. The wonder and suspicion in the kid’s face makes all kinds of uncomfortable emotions churn in Steve’s gut. He has everything that he could ever want, a career doing what he loves, friends and family that love him unconditionally, while this kid feels so trapped he sells sex on street corners.

He pours a mini bottle of Jack into a heavy glass tumbler and when he turns to look at the kid, he’s stripping off his clothes. It’s not a strip tease, the movements are economical no more, but Steve can’t look away from the show as the tank is fluidly pulled over the kid’s head, ruffling his hair, and then he’s shimmying out of his tight jean, the move somehow dance-like rather than silly. He’s entirely naked and Steve is still simply standing there holding his glass and staring. Though thin, the kid has a compact, muscular body that slinks over to him on cat-like silent feet. The hands that reach out to his belt buckle are unexpectedly small.

Steve sucks in a startled breath and blurts out, “You smell.” The kid flinches back at the words like he’s been slapped. “I mean,” Steve fumbles, “You should take a shower.”

Jesus Christ, he thinks. He just wants the kid to back up a little bit so he can breathe, so he can think. But there is a smell, and to his growing horror, the image that springs to mind of this kid kneeling in some alleyway, some john’s dick in his mouth is as arousing as it is infuriating. He’s gotta get this kid away from him.

Putting a hesitant hand on the small of the boy’s naked back, Steve quickly pushes the kid ahead towards the large bathroom. He’s acting like a moron or a psycho, but with some of the blood returning to his brain, he’s trying to do the right thing.

In the bathroom, he turns away from the curve of the kid’s ass, the dark thatch of hair between the kid’s thighs, instead he grabs at the little bottles of toiletries that hotels always leave for guests. “Here, you can use these…oh, look there’s even a toothbrush, and a bathrobe! You can put that on when you come out,” Steve calls, stumbling backwards out of the room and closing the door like he’s trying to escape from some frightening beast, instead of only being watched by big forlorn eyes.

Scraping his fingers through his long hair, Steve goes to sit down with his drink in the small sitting area. What the fuck is he doing? He’s got to get out of here before he does anything to this kid. But he couldn’t get the kid’s name, how is he going to get the kid to pick out a meal? Maybe he should just choose something expensive and order it, maybe several somethings.

For whatever reason, Steve doesn’t just order some food. He is, in fact, still just sitting in the comfy armchair when the kid emerges from his long shower. And he’s dressed in the robe. Now instead of looking like sex on legs, the kid looks like a kid, huge robe swallowing up his small body and falling over his feet and hands, skin flushed and hair sticking up in spikes from the kid’s fingers. He looks more relaxed, semi-grateful even, though Steve can see the suspicion creeping back in by the second.

Steve stands then, putting his drink on a side table beside his chair, and walking back over to the bar. “Take a seat. You want something to drink?” he asks, politely.

Warily, the kid takes another chair and sneers as he replies, “Why? Did you drug it?”

Steve doesn’t know whether to be amused or angry at this point. Bending over, Steve just grabs a can of Coke out of the mini-fridge and then walks over to the kid. “Drink it,” he orders.

But his authoritative tone seems to actually get through to the kid whose eyes widen slightly before he takes the can more meekly than he’s done anything. As Steve goes back to sit in his chair, though, he can see the kid checking the can surreptitiously like he’s looking for needle marks or something. And Steve really doesn’t want his mind to go there.

“Tell me your name,” Steve says after the kid has finally taken a sip. It’s a conscious attempt to order the kid this time and to Steve’s astonishment, it works again. The kid looks away down at his lap and says, “Chris,” like the word is forced out.

“And how old are you, Chris?”

That gets more of a reaction as Chris looks up again with an angry scornful expression and none of the meekness that was momentarily present. “Eighteen,” he spits out. “An adult according to the foster system.”

“So they just kicked you out?” Steve asks more sympathetically, unable to keep the stern tone.

The kid looks away again and shrugs, the move causing the robe to slip off one tan shoulder and causing Steve to almost swallow his tongue as he tries not to make a sound. He doesn’t know what shows on his face, but those sharp intelligent eyes see too much.

Chris stands up then, smoothly leaving the white fluffy robe behind like Venus rising from the waves. He sinks just as gracefully to his knees in front of Steve, his nimble hands adeptly parting Steve’s legs so he can lean forward and mouth over the instantly hard line of Steve’s dick through worn cotton.

Fuck. Steve’s panting with sudden arousal but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t stop the kid, doesn’t want to stop no matter that his upstairs brain is screaming at the wrongness of it. Instead, Steve just lays a gentle hand on the kid’s head, stroking through now soft and clean hair.

Apparently taking that as encouragement, Chris’s hands come up then to unbutton and unzip his fly, deft hands reach inside his boxers, pulling his cock into the cooler air. It’s with a lot of effort that Steve holds still, keeps his touch light, not wanting to hurt this kid more than he already is.

But Chris dives on his cock immediately, sucking half of Steve’s length into his mouth before pulling back, one of his hands following the motion getting more slick with spit as Chris bobs up and down. Steve can tell that this is not exactly how Chris’s normal encounters go when Chris looks up at him momentarily with eyes that show more anxiety than bravado now, like Chris wants to make sure he’s doing a good job.

But Steve is more focused on the sight of those plump lips now reddened, widened around his cock, just the fat head inside. It makes Steve groan, the first sound he’s made since this began. But the sound makes blue eyes flash with real mischief and desire before Chris is sucking hard and sliding his lips down further again.

Steve groans again, then growls, “Get up here.” He doesn’t wait for Chris to make it totally up off his knees before Steve’s hands are on the Chris’s biceps and pulling the smaller body onto his lap, pulling Chris’s face in so he can bite and suck at those full lips. But despite Steve’s all-out assault on his mouth, Steve can feel Chris’s lips curving, trying to smile like he’s basking in the force of Steve’s want.

Wrapping an arm around Chris’s slim waist, he pulls the kid closer until they’re chest to chest, bare skin against Steve’s cotton button-down and necklaces, even as he tries to lick the taste of toothpaste and Coke out of Chris’s mouth. Chris’s skin is smooth underneath Steve’s hands, muscles shifting beneath silk.

Small fingers are digging into Steve’s shoulders as he uses one hand to forcibly turn Chris’s head to the side so he can move his lips onto Chris’s jaw before sucking in an earlobe. A deep rumbling sound of approval comes from Chris’s chest and in the midst of everything, Steve has the urge to laugh at the literal sex kitten on his lap.

Instead, Steve brings his other hand back up to the curve of Chris’s spine as Chris’s upper body is going limp even as his hips begin pumping into Steve’s stomach, rucking up Steve’s shirt. Steve sucks kisses down the vulnerable line of the kid’s throat, causing Chris to start keening, high pitched cries of yearning and he’s undulating back and forth on Steve’s lap, pressing his dick into Steve’s stomach and then his ass back on Steve’s waiting cock.

Chris is a writhing wanton wreck, acting like he’s never been touched like this, never enjoyed sex like this, and Steve wants this kid to never forget him. Steve takes the invitation of Chris’s arched chest, sucking one brown bud into his mouth. Jerking like he’s been electrocuted, Chris’s movements and cries increase in desperation. The kid’s grinding against Steve’s stomach while Steve suckles and gnaws on the sensitive nub.

Steve doesn’t want it to be over like this though, so he takes one hand off Chris’s back and reaches into his back pocket. He has to lift his ass up a little to get it, but he’s got a condom and lube in his wallet, since he never knows who’ll be at these shows that catches his fancy.

With a last lick to the now reddened nub, Steve tries to concentrate on opening the small tube with one hand and his teeth, because Chris seems too out of it to completely support his own weight. He’s gorgeous, glistening with sweat in the low light, those blue doe-eyes hazy with pleasure, long lashes clumped with either tears or sweat.

Lube finally coating his fingers, Steve wraps on arm entirely around Chris’s waist, his legs pressing Chris’s thighs wider as his other hand slips between their bodies and up to delve between firm cheeks, gentle pressure on Chris’s hole. He watches as Chris’s eyebrows furrow and lips purse, the body tensing in his arms. Steve doesn’t need to be a genius to guess this part hasn’t always been pleasurable for Chris.

As a distraction, Steve leans forward to bite at the other nipple, tongue flicking against it. God, he loves how sensitive Chris is, how he’s still young enough that he doesn’t subdue any of his reactions. It isn’t long before Chris is actually pressing his ass back into Steve’s hand, mindlessly seeking out what feels good without his brain reminding him of past experiences.

Slowly a finger presses in, out, in, out, in, before it rubs against the nub of the kid’s prostate. Chris groans deep and low then, but it’s no less desperate a sound. Steve slips in a second finger as Chris grinds down on his hand, searching for more, then thrusting forward into Steve’s stomach. He’s so lost in sensation it’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve’s there, muscular thighs working to fuck himself down on Steve’s hand like it’s there solely for his pleasure, like Steve’s his personal sex toy. And it’s the hottest fucking thing Steve’s ever seen.

He doesn’t know who’s more surprised when Chris suddenly comes like that, frowning like he’s in pain and sounding like he’s choking, convulsing on Steve’s lap and around his fingers, hot spurts that Steve can feel through his shirt.

The kid wilts then and Steve lets him down easy to rest against his chest. Chris’s face is turned into Steve’s neck, his humid breath tickling the short hairs there and wet plump lips barely brushing sweaty skin.

Steve tilts his head down to press a soft kiss on the kid’s other shoulder. He’s looking at the mesmerizing curve of Chris’s spine, the lush fullness of Chris’s ass. It’s a great ass, Steve thinks, and he can’t help his hands smoothing his hands down and over the swell.

Chris groans and shifts when Steve can’t help squeezing the plump curves in his grasp. Pushing off of Steve’s shoulders, Chris kneels back up over Steve, blinking heavy lids like he’s just waking up. Awareness returns gradually and Steve knows where Chris’s focus is when a hand grabs his still hard dick.

This time, Steve can’t help bucking up into that grasp, and Chris grabs the condom and half empty tube of lube that Steve had set on the side table. The boy’s movements are urgent like he’s just now remembered what he’s actually supposed to be doing here. Steve lets him roll the condom down his length and lube him up, but he catches Chris’s hips, slowing things down.

Chris is still relaxed from his orgasm and the fat head of Steve’s cock pops through easily, easier than Chris is used to judging by the pleasantly surprised look on his face. Steve slumps down farther in the seat to make it easier as Chris slides down to a harmony of moans. It’s hot and tight and fucking perfect around his dick and Steve gives a short thrust upwards as Chris reaches bottom.

Chris grunts and then bites that fat bottom lip, the intensity of his gaze on Steve this time. But Steve wants this to be just as good, wants those eyes to lose their focus. Thrusting slow and hard, punching up into the kid, Steve slides his hands around Chris’s ribs to pinch and pluck at his nipples.

The effect is immediate like a cloud passing over the kid’s sky blue eyes and his body goes soft and languid. He’s still aware of Steve, though. His hands are carding through blonde waves and Steve has to pull Chris’s head down to lick inside that hot mouth again.

Chris pulls back with a gasp. One of Steve’s hands goes to the bones of Chris’s hips, still controlling their movements while his right hand grips the kid’s reawakening cock. Chris’s hips punch forward once before he settles back into Steve’s rhythm and his hands travel over Steve’s face, over nose and cheekbones and lips.

Fucking shit, Steve’s thrusts get faster until he’s just pulling the kid down on him by his hip. Chris puts his hands on Steve chest for balance before carefully lifting one hand to help Steve stroke his dick. Throwing his head back, Chris spills over Steve’s hand seconds before Steve is cursing his way through his own orgasm, his body jerking like a broken marionette.

Chris sways like a willow in the wind, like he can’t quite get his body to work with him anymore until Steve pulls the kid to his chest again, gently pulling Chris off his spent dick. Still panting like a racehorse after the Kentucky Derby, Steve reaches with his free hand for his earlier discarded drink, finishing it in one burning gulp.

The kid is total dead weight as Steve wiggles them to the edge of the seat to stand. He’s got both his arms around Chris’s torso, but Chris is only clinging to Steve’s now ruined shirt. The kid’s feet basically drag on the thick carpet as Steve maneuvers them to the bathroom. One-handed Steve discards the condom and wets a washcloth, causing Chris to twitch and moan in his grasp as the cloth runs over too-sensitive skin.

Dragging Chris over to the luxurious bed, Steve only has to push the kid at it for Chris to climb in, nesting underneath the fluffy covers. Steve snorts at the thought that he didn’t even need to drug the kid. Chris curls up on his side, one hand underneath the pillow and one hand fisted underneath his chin.

Overwhelmed, Steve runs his hands over his face and through his messy sweaty hair. He’s watching a teenage prostitute sleeping in a four star hotel with his dick still hanging out of his pants. And he’s already making plans of how he’ll convince the kid to stay with him.


End file.
